


But I'm hearing you, living inside my head

by gemini_in_tauro



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Character Death (in a flashback), Gen, Supernatural - Freeform, The one where Donatello is a medium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini_in_tauro/pseuds/gemini_in_tauro
Summary: While he is a respected scientist, Donatello has abilities that allow him to feel the presence of supernatural beings, and being the soft-hearted person he is, he never rejects an ask of help from someone needing a spiritist.Especially not Leonardo Hamato, an exchange student who's being haunted by an unknown presence.
Relationships: Donatello & April O'Neil (TMNT), Donatello & Leonardo (TMNT), Karai & Leonardo (TMNT)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7
Collections: Tmnt Spooky Gift Exchange 2020





	But I'm hearing you, living inside my head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hummerhouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/gifts).



> First of all: I'm sorry it took me so long! At first I had trouble with the plot because I'm pants with psychological horror and... well, killing the turtles was off the question. Then when I was almost done with the story I kept adding details and it just didn't feel complete to me.
> 
> At long last, here it is. I hope you enjoy it, and it doesn't disappoint despite the lack of spooky-ness.

“You’re late again, aren’t you?”

Donnie winced at April’s tone, almost dropping the phone thanks to the blunt tone in her voice the moment he picked up. So she noticed.

“I’m sorry?” He shook his head, avoiding crashing into a businessman by very little as he sprinted to the bus stop. “I stayed up last night trying to fix a glitch on my computer, so I kinda… didn’t wake up?”

April hummed in disbelief.

“I’ll make an excuse with Dr. Stockman for you, just hurry.”

“Honestly? You’re a life-saver. Thank you, April!”

“Sure, whatever. Don’t forget today’s meeting, please.” And she hung.

Just as he was about to enter the bus, he felt suddenly cold. As he looked around, he found a little girl running in the opposite direction of where the bus was, running after a ball of sorts. Noticing he probably didn’t have any other options, he sighed and prepared mentally for April scolding him yet again.

It wasn’t his fault his computer wouldn’t stop glitching.

* * *

Leo sat in a lotus position, trying to channel his energy correctly and meditate.

_ (The feeling of the newspaper on his hands was alien. The moment he laid his eyes on the title, everything stopped feeling real.) _

It would be easier if whatever was haunting his house would just stop.

_ (He had been mouthing something multiple times, but he couldn’t remember what exactly it was. Maybe her name, maybe he had just been reassuring himself that this was simply a nightmare.) _

None of the things done by the ghost were harmful to him, but they were starting to get irritating. It didn’t help in anything that no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to connect with the entity, he couldn’t seem to  _ find  _ a way to interact with it.

_ (And yet… it was true.) _

“Please, show yourself to me.” He had meditated for the most part of his life, he should be able to make an astral journey by this point.

_ (His best friend had died.) _

But the only answer he received was another broken cup.

Leo opened his eyes slowly. As he eyed the bedroom carefully, he noticed the candles had already burned out—he must have spent more time than he had first planned to, then. Out of the blue, he felt extremely chilly by the ghost’s presence.

He was going to need help.

* * *

“At long last,” chided April as soon as he checked his arrival. He barely had time to put on a lab coat before she practically dragged him through the several laboratories that Stockman’s company ran. “We have half an hour to get ready for the meeting. Did you prepare a speech?”

Donnie rolled his eyes. “I sent it to you last week, April. You even gave me your approval.”

“And have you rehearsed it?” The turtle shook his head, doing nothing but worry April more. “For god’s sake, Donnie! You know this meeting is important, we must—”

“I was only joking, April.” He let out a laugh. “Of course I have rehearsed it. I could recite it even asleep by this point.” She looked more relaxed by his admission, though only slightly. “You worry too much about it, you know? It’s not like we don’t have many meetings per week.”

“Of course I know that, Don. But they’re weekly updates we send to Dr. Stockman—this is a three-year-long project we’ve been working on!”

“Yes, April. I know we’ve been working on it. You saw the process we made with it in three years. It’s just numbers, nothing you haven’t been able to work with since you were in diapers.”

Feeling himself still a little tired thanks to last night’s issues, he added as an after-thought: “Though, I wouldn’t mind an American from Mikey’s. I feel like my head’s going to explode.”

April bristled in disbelief. Sure, she was unsure now, but Donnie felt safe in betting that by the end of the meeting, she was going to be the one with the high spirits.

It’s always been like this with her, after all.

* * *

“ _ Moshi-Moshi, Hamato? _ ” A fatigued voice asked from the other side of the line.

“It’s me, dad.” He put the pasta to boil while he started with the vegetables.

A pause, then “Leonardo. It’s almost midnight here, is everything fine?” If his father hadn’t been as tired as he was, he would have been madder at his son.

The turtle bit his lower lip. “Not much has happened, father. But there is… do you remember what I told you about the new apartment? About the spirit that has been disturbing the house?”

There was silence from his father’s side, then he groaned (probably to fully awaken himself), ruffling, and finally an answer. “I do remember parts of said conversation. What of it?”

“I tried to make contact with the spirit, but to no avail.” He sighed in resignation, chopping vegetables before adding them to the pan. “And it won’t leave me alone, either.”

His father seemed to mull his answer. Leo felt guilty for calling his father this late (for him), but he had truly done everything he could think of.

“You have a low sensibility to spiritual beings, Leonardo,” he couldn’t help but remember times when he felt that same sentence as an insult. After all, his father had prouded himself in his own spiritual sensibility, why would he be proud of a son like that?

But he had gotten over that. By now, he knew his father, rather than reminding him of his own failure, was only stating a fact. “Perhaps you have made contact with this spirit already, but you cannot either see it or understand what it’s trying to tell you.”

_ Or perhaps both of them _ , he wanted to add. “What do you suggest I do then, father?” he replied instead.

He could picture his father stroking his own beard, doing as though his answer was a long and hard one to think about.

“You will need a guide, my son. Someone with a high spiritual sensibility that may aid you in your issues with this spirit.” he heard him sipping from a cup—probably water, he couldn’t have prepared tea this quickly. “It won’t be very hard to spot one, I believe.”

Leo nodded, turning the stove off and serving the cooked vegetables onto a plate.

Then, remembering his father couldn’t see the nod, he spoke. “Of course, father. I… I will look into it,” he felt quite embarrassed with not having come up with that answer before. It was, after all, the logical answer.

He should’ve asked for help from someone who actually knew how to deal with ghosts from the very beginning, someone that could help him and was close by. Then again, he hadn’t given much thought to other mediums besides his father—it’s not like you could order them on a catalog, not unless you knew how to spot a true one against a charlatan.

He heard a yawn from his father’s side of the line. “Very well then. I think it’s time I return to sleep, it is a little bit past midnight here. Enjoy your morning, my son.”

And he hung up.

That was fine with Leo. After all, he had work to do.

* * *

“I think it went rather well.”

April sipped her latte after saying those words. Don, who had been concentrated on drinking his own americano, almost choked and stared fixedly at her.

“Come again?” He asked, his smile so coy it looked almost genuinely innocent.

The red-haired shrugged innocently, concentrating entirely on her own meal. “I said it wasn’t that bad,” she took a bite from her sandwich. “I think we actually impressed them, even Dr. Stockman looked pleased with how it turned out.”

“Of course we impressed them,” Donnie felt himself bristle. How dare she think they didn’t work anything less than perfect? “It’s not every day investors are invited to see our new projects. And it’s not every day they see the quality the two top scientists from Stockman’s can deliver.”

April nodded, obviously pleased with herself, and continued to eat her sandwich. They were currently celebrating at Mikey’s, a Café that sold the only coffee that could keep Donnie awaken by that point, and the only kind of cheese sandwiches that April wouldn’t make a face to. The owner of the place, a mutant turtle pretty much like him, had a major in gastronomy that he applied mostly for new coffee combinations and new recipes that at first glance didn’t look quite good, but were absolutely the best.

And well, Donnie liked it because it was close to the lab, so they didn’t need to go by bus.

“Oh, mom’s been nagging me about it, I almost forgot to tell you,” said repentantly April after her sandwich was done, and he had an eerie feeling about what mother had been asking April about. “What with the last-minute preparations for the meeting.” She took a napkin, gently cleaning her face and trying her best not to smear it with lipstick. “It’s going to be her birthday soon, and she asked me to tell you—in a very roundabout way, mind you—that you should go home for a couple of days. She…” April fell silent, trying to come up with the correct words for it, but still not quite making up her mind. “Have you had any trouble lately? With the… um, not-hallucinations?” she ended up saying, instead.

Donnie knew what she was trying to say, not that it helped any the term she used with how he felt about it.

He felt himself stiffen. Of course April would bring it to the table… literally.

“I haven’t,” he said finally. It’s not like he was telling her a lie, after all. “Though I had been a little restless for the meeting this past week,” he admitted, and this wasn’t a lie either. Although not as stressed by the prospect of having to show his project to investors that were interested in Stockman’s, he did have trouble with underlings who had helped with the preparations and somehow managed to screw little things. “Now that it’s been dealt with, I think I can rest a little.” He made sure not to answer whether or not he would go visit their mother for her birthday, and April noticed.

“Can you make sure to call her, at least? She said you’ve been retreating into your shell—”

He groaned. Not that metaphor again. “April—”

“—and turtle jokes aside, she’s not entirely wrong.” She sent him a look. “You should probably take this week off work.”

“April, could we—”

“No, Donnie. I’m not going to postpone it.” A tired sigh. “A week off work will probably suit you, you look dead on your feet.”

“I’m not that bad,” he defended himself, though he held the coffee protectively against his shell. “Also, I still need to check up on the evolution of the mushroom strains every nine hours and make sure the heat’s maintained so their growth—”

“I can perfectly handle those menial works for you while you’re away.” And that was the end of the discussion, Donnie could see it perfectly in his sister’s eyes. Then again, it probably had been her decision on how the conversation was going to end from the very beginning.

He sighed. Perhaps a week away from the lab would let him concentrate entirely on his computer’s glitch.

* * *

“Why would you need a medium, Leo?”

He evaded a punch, pondering whether he should tell his sparring partner about his problems. Kicking the other with a winged horse kick, and going back to a guarding position again, he decided to take another route that wasn’t quite a lie, and neither was very far from the truth.

“Mere curiosity. My father’s a very spiritual man, and you told me you had troubles with a spirit a couple of months ago. So I thought I could ask one about the differences between Japanese mediums and American mediums.”

Raphael looked at him skeptically. Leo couldn’t blame him, his explanation was one of the shittiest excuses he had come up with since that time he told his father his fear of heigh came because he just knew the stairs weren’t safe.

Raph sent another punch that he barely avoided. He liked that about sparring with Raph—since the other used box moves, and he used karate ones, they weren’t entirely used to the other’s movements, and thus their fights were unpredictable. It was… refreshing.

“I thought you said your father owned a dojo.” Although it wasn’t phrased as a question, the doubt was still there in his voice.

“And he does, but he helps people as well. Those who have trouble with either ghosts or spirits, and they need to…” he made a vague gesture that he hoped could encase the word, “exorcise them.”

They fought for a couple of minutes before Raphael won. They saluted each other and went for their respective bottles of water.

“As it is, I do happen to still have the contact of the medium that helped me with my ghost stuff,” he answered, cleaning the sweat from his neck with a hand towel. “Though I’d recommend you to contact him at night, he said he doesn’t work during the day.”

“A busy man?” Leo joked.

“Very,” nodded Raphael, entirely serious. “He is a chief investigator from a large corporation, I bet you wouldn’t know about him unless you’re part of the science sphere.”

“I’m not, actually.” He doubted his degree in history had anything to do with whatever this man Raphael spoke about did, and he knew of very little scientists, let alone scientists that were still alive and lived in New York. “Though it is kind of ironic—a scientist medium.” A man who dedicated himself to the most skeptic branch of knowledge, practicing one art that relied entirely on having an open mind to anything related to metaphysics? An oxymoron, if Leonardo’s ever heard of one.

Raph arched an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, Hamato.” He went to his rucksack and took his phone out.

* * *

Just as he was entering his house, he heard his flip-phone ring. Taking off his coat, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Um…” There was a pause.

Noticing the reticence of the other person, he suggested, “Can I help you with something? Maybe tell me your name?”

“Yes, my name is Leonardo Hamato, I— a friend told me you could help me with a problem.”

“U… huh?” He looked through the ingredients inside the fridge. “Helping you… how exactly?”

“Solve problems with spirits.”

He stopped looking for food as quickly as the other voice said those words. “I see.” Closing the fridge’s door, he started pacing through the kitchen. “Is it a life or death situation? Or just something that’s been giving you trouble?”

“Uh… Kind of the second? It’s not much trouble, but I’ve tried making contact with it and I find myself unable to make amends with it.”

Donnie nodded. Noticing the naïvety in the other’s attempt to contact the spirit, he entered what his friends (and April especially) called ‘teacher mode’, raising a hand as though stating his point in front of an entire class of fresh students. “Why, of course you wouldn’t be able to. Normal people usually cannot see spirits, you know? Because they—”

“Lack of spiritual sensibility, I know.” It took only a couple of seconds before this Hamato boy spoke again. “Sorry, my father’s a spiritist, he… knows about this kind of thing.”

Intrigued by this bit of news, Donnie arched an eyebrow. “Is he, Mr. Hamato? Then, and sorry if I sound rude, why would you request my services?”

“I’ve moved overseas to study here, um… he’s in Japan as we speak.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” the other—Hamato—said flatly. “And well, I want this spirit to be in peace. My father has told me how hurting it would be to beings that don’t belong in… here, so to say, to stay, and I haven’t had luck making contact with this spirit.”

“So you’re not being bothered by it?”

He took a legal pad that he had left abandoned the other night when he was, for once, fixing his computer, and started to make notes on what Mr. Hamato had told him so far.

The other started fumbling, as though he had asked if the spirit was trying to kill him.

“No, no! It’s… well, it’s been a couple of cups broken, but mostly it just opens and closes the door of my kitchen. It has left a human handprint twice in the bathroom mirror, too. If it's trying to deliver a message, I'm afraid I cannot decipher it.”

“I see…” so it wasn’t trying to harm him? “And you believe it’s trying to deliver a message to you?” He took another pause, suddenly remembering something. “You said you moved here to study, are you living in a rented house or an apartment?”

“Uh… an apartment. It’s been three months since I moved, but the spirit’s been here for a couple of weeks only.”

Donnie blinked. Repeatedly. “So… it moved  _ after _ you came here?” He waved the pencil he was taking notes with around, and enunciated every word carefully, as though this Hamato kid could see him.

“Yes.”

“Most interesting.” He nibbled on the eraser, then he sighed. “You’re probably right—it might be you that the spirit it’s after. Have you had anything happen to you since you moved to your current location? Maybe you angered a man, someone has sworn fealty to you? A college mate that has recently died and harbored ill feelings towards you?”

“... Not that I know of, but anything can happen.”

_ So much for time off-work _ , thought Donnie. But well, he was already invested in this case, so there was no turning back until he helped this Leonardo kid. “What is it that do you want me to do, exactly? Do you want me to exorcise your place, or help you track the spirit or…?”

“Not exactly?” Hamato sounded as though it was the first time he pondered it. “I think… well, firstly, I want to know what is it that it wants. If it’s a relatively affordable wish, then I want to concede it. And if it’s not…” he could imagine the person on the other side of the line shrugging. “I’ll think of something.”

That was… incredibly optimistic from the other’s point of view. And he said he had a spiritist for a father. Donnie sighed.

“You have to be reminded that not all spirits are as tame as yours is,” he said, feeling a headache coming. It’s not that the other was exasperating, as much as he was naïve. “You have a relatively innocent idea of how spirits are. They exist because they have pending things, not to… mess with your kitchen door or break a couple of cups and let you forget they’re even there just for the fun of it.”

“Of course, I know that.”

“And you also said that it was hurting this spirit to stay in this place, so the more reason to get rid of it.”

“I— okay, fine. Sure. We’ll exorcise it after I find out what it wants.”

“That’s what I needed to hear. If you want to today, we could meet at Central Park in… ” he looked at his watch, “—an hour is good enough for you?”

“Uh… yeah, it’s fine. Any particular sign that I could use to meet you?”

Donnie grinned. “Just follow the turtle tracks, Mr. Hamato. You’ll find me there.”

* * *

Whatever he expected to find, it definitely wasn’t another anthropomorphic turtle like him.

“You’re the medium?” He asked, baffled.

The elder looked at him skeptically, removing inexistent dust from his trenchcoat. “If you want to use that term, yes, it is me. Though most people prefer to call me Donatello.”

And Raph was right—this is the first time he had heard of him. Donatello. Another anthropomorphic turtle living in New York. Like Raphael and him.

“Donatello?” He said unsurely.

He nodded. “And I’d rather you call me by that. Calling me ‘the medium’ or anything of the sort just doesn’t fit with me. It’s just… not my thing.” He looked as though he was reminiscing something amusing—probably other people calling him  _ medium _ while being at work and telling them why he didn’t like it—before going back to him. “But enough about me. Why don’t you lead the way to your apartment?”

Leo nodded. “Sure,” he would ponder on the likelihood of there being more turtles in New York that he didn’t know about later, for now, he needed to focus on the task at hand. “Please follow me.”

They walked amicably in silence. He was still being eaten by curiosity, especially because despite the nondescript look of this person, he  _ knew _ he possessed a great spiritual sensibility, even greater than his father’s.

The elder—Donatello—sent him an amused glance. “You seem eager to ask me something.”

“You…” he paused. Donatello… what, exactly?

“I…” echoed the other.

Leo frowned. “You’re not what I was expecting.” Noticing how the other still had that amused glint in his eyes, he added. “Not that it’s a bad thing! Just… you’re not what meets the eye.”

Donatello shrugged. “Don’t worry, I would say the same about me if I met myself for the first time.” He chuckled. “Did the spirit do anything remarkable since the call?”

Leo shook his head. “Not really. It’s been chilly in my apartment, though. So I know it hasn’t gone away.”

The other looked thoughtful. “I see,” he raised a hand to stroke his chin. “To recapitulate: We have a harmless or semi harmless ghost that likes to shut doors and break cups—sometimes handprints on the bathroom mirror—you have no idea how it came into your life and neither know what is it that it wants.”

“That’s a… yeah, that’s it.” He wouldn't use those words to describe his circumstances, but it definitely was the gist of his situation.

“As I’ve told you before, not all ghosts are as harmless as yours,” he didn't shiver or anything, but he had a haunted look that only made Leo's curiosity grow. “That is what makes your situation rather extraordinary. Hmmm…” he grabbed his own chin. “You don't look like one of those boys that like playing with the supernatural just because they can, so it's fair to assume you haven't put your hands on an Ouija?”

“It's not the kind of thing I'd rather do in my free time, no.” He shook his head. It's not like he had that much free time besides the time he spent in the gym, his professors wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he dared to deliver late an assignment.

“Just checking,” he nodded to himself. Leo wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing—he thought he was mumbling, though the words weren’t seemingly connected—so he kept silent for the remainder of their walk back to his apartment.

Not that they had left that much of walking left, either. He didn’t need to tell Donatello where the apartment was, he looked like he was already trying to find the source of his problems.

“It’s not so strong, it feels more like an imprint of someone’s soul, rather than a ghost” once Leo opened the door, his expression, that had been calm and relaxed, turned concentrated and a little hardened. “It… doesn’t feel like it wishes you ill, but it  _ does _ feel like they’re suffering.” Without warning, he went to the living room and sat in a lotus position.

“Do you… want anything to drink? Water, tea?”

“I’m fine with anything sugary,” he said. Leo thought he was meditating—his breathing was even and his posture was relaxed—but he didn’t have his eyes closed, and they weren’t exactly concentrated on a specific place.

_ He’s probably looking for the spirit _ , he decided and went to the kitchen to fetch the drinks. He ended up drawing an Oolong tea for himself, and a soda for the other. As he approached, one drink in each hand, he noticed the other had taken out a legal pad and was making notes.

“Have you lost anyone recently, Mr. Hamato?” he asked, not even glancing at the other as soon as he arrived.

Leo pondered on the question, handing the other the soda. “I don’t think so, father would have told me if anyone close to me had died recently.” Not that it mattered while he was abroad, but Donatello looked like he wanted to differ.

“And what about not-recently? How about…” he rose and looked around the living room, finally spotting one of the few photographs that Leo still had standing, and held it close to Leo, looking at him skeptically “—her?”

His heart skipped a beat. Donatello seemed to notice that because he looked at it more closely. “Her name was Karai.” He nodded, “We met by chance in a boarding school in Chiba prefecture. She wanted to enter the martial arts’ club, but her father wouldn’t let her—he said it wasn’t a thing for women, so she asked me if I could train with her and teach her what little I could.” He sipped from his own tea. It had been really long since he talked about her like this.

“We were… not really friends—maybe acquaintances at best, back then. Our fathers’ had been childhood friends, but they had stranged, so we couldn’t really have any sort of friendship.” He smiled, a little awkward, a little sad. “But she had become something of a sister to me, by the time we started high school.”

Donatello, who had been silently listening, tilted his head. “What happened to her?”

“His father reported her missing, on the August trimester of our second year,” he sat on the couch in front of Donatello, doing his best to remember the details of the story—it never stopped feeling surreal to him. He hadn’t cared too much about the time hit had passed during that year. “Since he had power in Japan, and she was a well-liked character, there were newspaper updates on her case every day.”

_ It’s been two weeks of searching, and there has been no sign of Oroku Saki’s beloved daughter whatsoever… _

“They found her body a week before her seventeenth birthday, hung on a tree in the deepest part of the Aokigahara forest,” he tried to imitate the voice of a reporter that covered the news, his voice void of any emotion. “ _ A terrible loss this country has suffered, a brilliant woman with an even brighter future. We cannot fathom why she would decide to waste her life away like this. _ ” He shook his head.

Donatello looked like he wanted to say something, and Leo found himself too gloomy to care.

The other seemed to notice it because he asked instead, “But she didn’t, did she?”

“The forensic that did the autopsy on her body declared the rope marks weren’t the cause of death. A couple of days later he retracted his statement, said it had been a joke of poor taste, and apologized to the Oroku family for even implying anything.”

There was silence. Donatello looked pensively at the portrait. It was a picture of Karai and him—their last day of junior high before graduation. One of her friends had taken it and had framed it in secret. Then she had given Leo one of a two-pictures set. It had been a present for their graduation day.

It had been silent for too long, so Leo said, almost too quietly for the other to hear. “It’s her, isn’t it? The ghost?”

Donatello didn’t know whether to nod or shake his head, he tried smiling, even if it ended up being a chagrin. “It was a bit of a wild guess, really.” He pointed at the picture. “That photograph has the strongest imprint of paranormal energy, and since the ghost is not strong enough to have a physical form, I assumed it would be that.” He still frowned, like there was something not right with what he’d said.

Leo caught up on that. “You feel like I didn’t tell you something.”

Donatello nodded. “Maybe not consciously, but there is something amiss. There’s still no way for her to have come all the way from the Ako? Akigahara forest?”

“Aokigahara forest.”

“Quite,” he bit his lip, took a sip from his soda, and looked directly at Leo’s eyes. “I mean—what would her purpose be? A death that’s been passed on as a suicide it’s not uncommon, and since I’ve started helping people on this part, I’ve never seen a ghost use it as their ‘unfinished business’, if you will.” He started pacing through the living room. “Did she have a particular affinity for the unnatural?”

Leo shook his head. “Not any more than I did, actually.”  _ It hadn’t been important at the time, either, _ he thought.

Donatello stared at the portrait. “I could summon her if you want to.” Before Leo had a chance to reply and list a number of reasons why that wasn’t either necessary or safe, he continued. “Since I’m particularly sensitive to these matters, it wouldn’t be hard for me to let her in… and let her out as well. It would grant us the particular insight of her side of the story, what’s tying her to this place and all.”

Leo was scared by this prospect. Not only had his father never tried this method of communicating with a spirit, he hadn’t even uttered a word about such a method ever being possible. Maybe he hadn’t considered it safe enough for him to know about?

“But—”

The elder rolled his eyes, sitting once again in a lotus position. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. You can help waking me, if you see I’m too gone.”

“Have you…” he paused, looking for the words. Had he gone mad? Was he really doing this—what if it didn’t work? “Have you done this before?”

Donatello grimaced. “Once. It wasn’t even conscious I had done it—I was shopping with my mother, we passed a haunted house, and since I didn’t even know what a ghost was, I had accidentally let one in... mom thought I was schizophrenic until I moved to my own place.” Seeing Leo was sitting in front of him, mimicking his lotus position, he nodded. “Excellent. Shall we begin?”

Leo didn’t look satisfied with the prospect but didn’t fight him. “What will I be doing?”

“My body will get colder once I let Karai in. Make sure I don’t die from hypothermia or any bodily function is stopped.” As an afterthought, he added: “If I start convulsing, make sure I don’t hit anything that could potentially harm me, and put me a gag or something that will impede me from biting or swallowing my tongue.”

A snort. “You sure you won’t kill yourself if you do this?” The more Donatello warned him that he should do for him, the more he suspected it was more dangerous 

“Of course I’m serious. It’s been so long since I’ve tried this, and last time landed me in a mental facility, so—” He took a deep breath, probably ghosting away bad memories. “It won’t take very long, really. I admit it’s delicate work but… we don’t have many choices here.”

* * *

He was sure Leo had said something else, but he had already opened himself for foreign presences.

His soul merging with Karai’s had felt as though someone had pulled gallons of water over him, and said water was still clinging to his very bones. Not only that, but it had also come with several memories that belonged to Karai, the emotions she had felt back then.

_ “Please, Hamato, you’re the only one I can ask for help.” _

_ He deadpanned her, whatever he had been saying to Sato forgotten just to pay her attention. _

_ “Look, my father warned me. He told me it was unwise to associate myself with Oroku Saki’s daugh–” _

_ Fury. Blinding fury had made her interrupt his diatribe. “And you follow your daddy’s every word? Did it ever occur to you that I’m not my father?” _

_ Hamato didn’t look too surprised by her outburst. Sure, maybe daddy had warned him Oroku Saki’s daughter would be an unruly kid with a temper to match her father’s. He exchanged a look with Sato, who said he would go ahead and enter the classroom. _

_ “I do, if it means I can stay away from someone that ordered the murderer of my mother around.” _

_ Karai looked at him like had accused her of the murder. “Do you honestly believe that rumor?” _

_ “There is evidence that sustains Mashimi Yukio worked for your father at the time of the murder, why wouldn’t I?” _

_ “Because dad didn’t order her murder. That man was deluded enough to think he would gain something if he killed her. That he would gain favor from dad.” _

_ Hamato still didn’t look convinced. The bell ringed, and he looked mourningly to his classroom. “Next week there is going to be a tournament only available to the upper years, and since the sensei has to be there, we will be without practice. I told my father I would spend that time studying for biology, so meet me at the library.” _

_ Whatever Karai had expected he would say, she hadn’t expected that. “Thanks.” _

_ “Don’t thank me just yet—it so happens you had the number one position in the last biology test in the whole school. I think it would suit me a study partner from the A-Class.” _

_ A snort. “This is a business exchange?” _

_ Hamato nodded. “What’s wrong with you tutoring another student that asked you gently for your help? Especially one that will give you something in return?” _

_ Karai smiled in spite of herself. “It’s a deal.” _

_.: :._

_ “No, that’s not the rough endoplasmatic reticulum. It’s a ribosome.” _

_ Leo looked at her questioningly, obviously tired of the fact that she was bossing him around. “What’s the difference?” _

_ “The reticulum doesn’t have ribosomes, for starters. See? It’s made almost of his entirety of acids and fosfolipids.” _

_ “And aren’t all parts of the cell made of those?” _

_ “Yes, but technically the ribosomes aren’t their own system. The ribosomes are…” _

_ Leo looked tired, and he looked like he didn’t know what she was talking about, but he still listened intently. _

_.: :. _

_ “You know? For not having any serious training, you are getting better. I also heard you wrote your name for the track club?” _

_ Karai sent a kick that Leo easily evaded, and as he was distracted with that she sent another punch. _

_ “It’s feminine enough for my father to let me in. I had to promise that its activities wouldn’t interfere with my spotless grades, though. So now I actually have to make sure I ace all the tests.” _

_ Leo locked her legs between his in a key, snorting at the dramatic tone she had voiced the news. “You make it sound like you don’t do that already. Your grades couldn’t be better if you tried.” _

_ “That’s what I told him.” She slid one of her legs out of Leo’s vice-grip, standing a couple of feet away from him, and trying to put some distance, recovering in the process. “Still, I think it will help if I build up stamina with it. Don’t you think?” _

_ “It will. It’s a good idea, actually.” _

_.: :._

_ “What about Tang Shen?” _

_ A feeling of dread had enveloped her, she tried to make it seem as though it wasn’t a big deal. Why didd she even ask him? _

_ “A classmate told me something that sounded accusatory. She implied that it hadn’t been entirely Mashimi’s doing.” _

_ Her father sent her a nasty look. “Are you saying I had something to do with it?” _

_ “No!” She denied, maybe too quickly for it to be true. “I just.. I didn’t know what to tell her at the moment. It’s been so many years since someone actually accused you of that thing—it’s been fifteen years since it happened, and all.” _

_ Saki relaxed. Though not much. “I see. You’re almost an adult, Karai, you shouldn’t worry about such childish rumors. Why don’t you go to study for your classes, instead of gossiping with schoolgirls? I’ve heard you haven’t yet completed your review on your textbooks.” _

_ Karai nodded. “I will dad. If you’ll excuse me.” _

_.: :. _

_ “You were right, Leo.” _

_ “Karai? It’s three in the morning. What are you talking about?” _

_ “I found a letter, Leo. My dad’s…” she took a deep breath. “He’s not a good person.” _

_ “... and how do you feel about that bit of news?” _

_ She hiccuped. “Not fine.” _

_ “Did I tell you I was planning on studying history?” _

_ “You can barely tell Oda Nobunaga from Chokosabe Kunichika apart!” _

_ “I will be fine. I’ve been looking for universities, though. There is a place in a New York University, an exchange partnership called APU.” _

_ “Isn’t Todai good enough for you?” She joked. _

_ “You know I never was a fan of big cities.” _

_ “From what I’ve heard of New York, it’s that it isn’t any small city.” _

_ “Small sacrifices have to be made.” _

_ She felt calmer, though there was still unrest. How could she tell him about the letter? “It suits you, as oddly as it sounds.” _

_ “Thanks, I think if I apply myself to it, I could enter with a full scholarship.” _

_ No, she couldn’t. _

_ “You do that. Will you learn American History, then?” _

_ He groaned. “I hadn't thought about that, I probably will.” _

_.: :. _

_ There was extreme pain. It’s not like she hadn’t seen it coming. _

_ “You are not my daughter.” _

_ Idly, she wondered what he would say to the press. There weren’t that many bruises on her body, so if he waited long enough to let any drugs out of her system, he could pass her death off as a suicide. _

_ “Why did you associate with my enemy’s son?!” _

_ Karai didn’t answer immediately. Part of it was out of a sense of rebellion, part of it was because her throat was sore. “His name is Leo, dad.” _

_ Oroku Saki looked at the picture that Mitsuki had taken them. She thought she had hidden it well enough, how did he find it? _

_ “Did my past with his family never matter to you? Did my suffering not matter?” _

_ Karai wanted to say that it did. It had hurt her so much when other people spoke despondently of her father, those nasty rumors that he was such a bad person when he was just strict. It had hurt for so many years, it had been almost unbearable. _

_ But he hadn’t suffered, had he? He never cared for Tang Shen as he said he did, not enough to fight for her properly, and certainly not enough to care for her when someone that worked under him had killed. _

_ “You sent Mashimi to kill her.” _

_ It wasn’t a question. “So you read my correspondence. I always wondered where had that one letter gone to,” Oroku Saki didn’t look apologetic at all. _

_ It wouldn’t be long before he called for the authorities, and asked for people to find his disappeared daughter. _

Donnie breathed in sharply, jolting from the trance-like he had entered into. He stared into bright blue eyes that felt alien. Where were father’s calm, icy brown eyes? Where was he, even? Had it all been a dream, that his father was torturing him for being friends with Leo and his subsequent death?

“Took you long enough,” said the other. “How are you feeling, Donatello?”

He took another breath, this time to center himself. Remember what had happened before he had fallen asleep. He sipped from the soda that was in front of him.

* * *

When Donatello had opened his eyes, they had reminded Leo of Karai’s. He had thought she would tell him something through the medium, but as soon as he had seen her eyes, they had gone back to being the other turtle’s.

There was silence for quite a while, and after the first soda was done, he had gone to retrieve another for the other. He had sipped in silence, not even considering to answer his question, looking absently to the nearest wall.

He hoped this was more shock to having invoked a soul into himself and not an aftereffect of things going wrong. He didn’t want to contact his father and tell him he had broken a medium and needed his help fixing him. That wouldn’t certainly let him keep his scholarship.

After what seemed an hour of silence, Donatello spoke. “She’s gone.”

Leo tilted his head in confusion. “Do you care to elaborate on that?”

“I don’t feel her presence anymore.”

The medium gave him a summary of what he saw, and he ended up with: “She had wanted to keep it from you, she thought… that you would hate her for it.”

The student nodded. “I see. That’s such a Karai thing to do, really. I’m not even surprised.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The medium told him apologetically. He looked exhausted—and after what he had just done, Leo didn’t blame him.

“At least now I know,” he tried to sound like it was enough. It didn’t hurt as it had five years ago, after all. “Thank you for your help, Donatello.”

Donatello let out a smile, one that wasn’t tense this time. “It was… interesting. To say the least.” He stood, slowly, and walked in the direction of the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m heading home. My mother’s birthday is in two days, and I’ve been so focused on a big project from Stockman’s that I had barely time to prepare her anything. I need to rest first—probably an entire day.”

Leo snorted. “Of course. It doesn’t look like you have a healthy sleep pattern.”

“Meh, that’s the price of genius.” He then opened the door and saluted the other with two fingers. “It’s been a pleasure, Hamato. And I hope you don’t have the need for my services again.”

Once the door had closed behind the medium, Leo stood from his place, let the cup on the sink, and went to sleep, feeling drained yet content with how the night had turned out.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Oda Nobunaga** and **Chokosabe Kunichika** were daimyo from the Sengoku period, ca. the 16th century.
> 
> **Todai** is a slang term for **Tokyo Daigaku** , which is the most prestigious university in Japan.
> 
> **APU** is the Ritsumeikan Asian Pacific University, and holds a prestigious exchange program, though none of its options relate to History Degrees.


End file.
